It’s hardly surprising that when Steven Moffat decides that he’s going to write an isolated, non-series-arc episode for the first time in several years – deliberately choosing it as a lower-budget, almost-a-bottle episode as being “to prove I could still write [this type of episode]” – it turns out to be one of the most Moffaty things he’s ever done. You can practically run a checklist: the single-word, imperative title; the awkward rom-sitcom scenes; the nursery rhymes; a threat that plays on primal, childhood fears; the time-bending narrative structure; the appearance of a companion (well, a proto-companion) as a child. The list goes on.

When he does this as part of an episode that’s as sharp and thought-provoking as anything we’ve seen from him before – if slightly lacking the pure unabashed humour of a “Blink” or an “Eleventh Hour” – then it’s no surprise that to anyone for whom Moffat’s version of Who is still something to be cherished, “Listen” is about as good as it gets.

It’s hardly surprising that when Steven Moffat decides that he’s going to write an isolated, non-series-arc episode for the first time in several years – deliberately choosing it as a lower-budget, almost-a-bottle episode as being “to prove I could still write [this type of episode]” – it turns out to be one of the most Moffaty things he’s ever done. You can practically run a checklist: the one word, imperative title; the awkward rom-sitcom scenes; the nursery rhymes; a threat that plays on primal, childhood fears; the time-bending narrative structure; the appearance of a companion (well, a proto-companion) as a child. The list goes on.

What this means, of course, is that it doesn’t really matter how good a piece of television “Listen” is in its own right. It’s a Steven Moffat episode of Doctor Who, in his style, and it’s impossible to imagine it winning over anyone for whom that would be a turn-off. Indeed, to anyone for whom Moffat’s version of Who is something to be despised, “Listen” is about as bad as it gets.

What this also means is that you’re highly unlikely to get much out of the rest of this review, because the problems you have with Moffat’s work (which, of course, you’re perfectly entitled to have – I’m certainly not going to flat out call anyone “wrong” for holding that opinion) mean you’re approaching it from a completely different angle. Rather than constantly qualify any assertions I make with the concession that your mileage may vary, it’s probably easiest if you don’t go any further. That way neither of us has to get annoyed at the other.

It’s been a recurring feature of Series 8 so far that each episode has had something about it that can be (and has been) said to be reminiscent of something from the recent past – and in the case of “Listen” that would seem to extend not just to those familiar “Moffatisms”, but even to the very act of breaking the format. After all, isn’t breaking the format itself something that’s part of the show’s heritage? Don’t we actually tend to prefer the likes of “Blink”, “Midnight” or “Love & Monsters” precisely because they’re such breaks from the norm?

Well, possibly, but I’d argue that very few episodes have done quite so much to take a hammer not just to the show’s format, but to its rules, as “Listen” does, right from its incredibly unusual – but utterly compelling – Doctor-monologue opening sequence onwards. It’s not even really one story: it’s practically an anthology of three distinct tales, all variations on the same theme (four, even, if you count the Danny and Clara date as a separate strand).

And it’s very possible, based on how you interpret the core question at the centre of the plot, that it smashes open a pretty basic tenet in a way that we’ve never seen before.

From its incredibly unusual – but utterly compelling – Doctor-monologue opening sequence onwards, the episode does so much to mark itself out as different that it’s tempting to suggest that nothing like it has been done before. After all, it’s not even really one story: it’s practically an anthology of three distinct tales, all variations on the same theme (four, even, if you count the Danny and Clara date as a separate strand). Very few episodes have done quite so much to take a hammer not just to the show’s format, but to its rules, as this does.

But it’s been a recurring feature of Series 8 so far that each episode has had something about it that can be (and has been) said to be reminiscent of something from the recent past – and in the case of “Listen” that extends not just to those familiar “Moffatisms”, but even to the very act of breaking the format. Let’s face it, breaking the format is itself something that’s part of the show’s heritage – and we actually tend to prefer the likes of “Blink”, “Midnight” or “Love & Monsters” precisely because they’re such breaks from the norm.

Nevertheless, it’s very possible, based on how you interpret the core question at the centre of the plot, that “Listen” smashes open a pretty basic tenet in a way that we’ve never seen before.

It’s fortunate that the episode offers us enough hints – from the glimpse of a pale-skinned figure, to the Doctor’s reaction to whatever he sees outside – that the “monster” is genuine. Because the alternative would be much more frightening. It would mean the Doctor was wrong. It’s not beyond the realm of possibility for the Doctor to be wrong, of course – there’d be very little drama in the show if it was – but if he were wrong here, it would be in such a fundamental way that he would lose his authority. He’d no longer be our guide through this strange, bewildering universe – but instead just as bewildered by it as the rest of us.

And he’d be wrong for the second time in as many weeks, having spent “Robot of Sherwood” insisting that something wasn’t “real”, when it was. Indeed, the thematic link between the two is interesting – in both cases, the nature of reality is being debated in relation to something that is fundamentally part of story. It’s Doctor Who going metatextual – simultaneously uncomfortable and yet undeniably thrilling territory, as well as something that it always felt like Moffat might reach eventually.

Of course, it’s not as uncomfortable as it might be, because the monster is real. Definitely, definitely real. I mean, you’re sure it is, because you clicked on it. In Doctor Who, the monster is always real. There’s always a rational explanation for our fears. That’s reassuring, isn’t it?

Although I didn’t say I agreed with you. Because where “Listen” makes its greatest break with tradition is in leaving this one to the imagination.

And that’s even before we get to its most controversial element.

The inescapable conclusion to be drawn from the story’s resolution is that there is no monster. And that’s actually potentially an even more frightening idea than if there had been something under the bed. Because the Doctor is wrong. It’s not beyond the realm of possibility for the Doctor to be wrong, of course – there’d be very little drama in the show if it was – but here, he’s wrong in such a fundamental way that he loses his authority. He’s no longer our guide through this strange, bewildering universe – he’s just as bewildered by it as the rest of us. And of course, the entire plot of the episode only happens because he’s wrong.

And he’s wrong for the second time in as many weeks. In “Robot of Sherwood”, he insisted that something wasn’t “real”, when it was. Here, he’s insisting something is “real” that isn’t. In both cases, however, the nature of reality is being debated in relation to something that is fundamentally part of story. Neither Robin nor the “monster” are actually real, and yet in another sense they are both as real as one-another. But this is Doctor Who going metatextual – simultaneously uncomfortable and yet undeniably thrilling territory, as well as something that it always felt like Moffat might reach eventually.

(Yet and at the same time: if the Doctor hadn’t pursued this crazy line of thinking, Orson Pink would still be stuck at the end of the universe. Even when completely wrong, even when going on a wild-goose chase for something that only exists in his head… the Doctor still can’t help saving people.)

It’s tempting to want to believe, however, that the monster is real. Because in Doctor Who, the monster is always real. There’s always a rational explanation for our fears. Where “Listen” makes its greatest break with tradition, however, is in leaving this one to the imagination.

Actually, if I’m honest, I don’t think going back and showing the Doctor as a child, at least in the way “Listen” did it, is all that controversial (I really only said the above as a cliffhangery lead in to this paragraph). If Doctor Who were never allowed to flash back and fill in its mythos, we wouldn’t have “The War Games” or “The Deadly Assassin” or “The Sound of Drums” or “The Name of the Doctor”; and it’s not as if showing a young (unnamed, unseen) version of the character contradicts anything especially firmly established, unless you’re the kind of person who wants to start banging on about Looms and The Other. Really, the only element of that really quite superbly done scene that’s in any way tricky is the idea that the TARDIS can apparently travel to long-past Gallifrey so easily – and even that can be thought around if you consider the possibility that the barn was never on Gallifrey in the first place (nothing in the episode itself says it is, and it actually helps the plot workings of “The Day of the Doctor” to make a bit more sense if it isn’t).

Actually, if I’m honest, I don’t think going back and showing the Doctor as a child, at least in the way “Listen” did it, is all that controversial (I really only said the above as a cliffhangery lead in to this paragraph). If Doctor Who were never allowed to flash back and fill in its mythos, we wouldn’t have “The War Games” or “The Deadly Assassin” or “The Sound of Drums” or “The Name of the Doctor”; and it’s not as if showing a young (unnamed, unseen) version of the character contradicts anything especially firmly established, unless you’re the kind of person who wants to start banging on about Looms and The Other. Really, the only element of that really quite superbly done scene that’s in any way tricky is the idea that the TARDIS can apparently travel to long-past Gallifrey so easily – but as you know, since you clicked this option, it’s a quite obvious conclusion to draw that the barn was never on Gallifrey in the first place.

By any measure, “Listen” is a staggering, compelling, endlessly curious beast of an episode, and one that’s insanely tricky to get a firm handle on this soon after its first broadcast (which might explain this ridiculous and overly gimmicky review). But one thing that’s undeniable about it is how strong it’s anchored by its leading man. It’s obviously going to become a recurring feature of our writeups, but by god, even by the standards of his predecessors, Capaldi is something special. He doesn’t have that sense of being every Doctor rolled into one that Smith somehow managed, but as a particular type of Doctor, he’s an astonishing presence. And it’s only taken him four episodes to get an episode that simply could not have belonged to any Doctor other than him. The immediate security offered by his innate brilliance has given Moffat and the other writers the confidence to simply launch the Twelfth Doctor off a cliff, to the extent that there’s been no delicate settling-in period – he just is. In fact, he’s not even really the “Twelfth Doctor”. In keeping with his position in the regeneration cycle, he’s arguably an entirely new First.

And that’s part of the reason why “Listen” feels so special. Brand new Doctor. Brand new way of doing things. At a time when the phrase “New Who” refers to a show that is now nine years and over 100 episodes old, this really is New Who. I have no idea what it’s going to do next, and I’m thrilled.

Seb Patrick once met Paul McGann, who immediately pretended to be Mark McGann. He writes for Den of Geek, BBC America, Film4 and the official Red Dwarf website, among others. He owns over thirty toy Daleks and wishes the Dapol factory tour was still open.

4 Responses

I loved it, in fact this series thus far has been one of the best since the show returned. As for the episode, it reminded me of why we got excited about seeing “by Stephen Moffat” under the episode title back in the RTD era in the first place. It was hugely atmospheric, creepy, well-written (sadly quite rare in New Who) and stays with you long after the credits have rolled. I actually had tears in my eyes at the end.

There were harks back to “Blink” and “Midnight” (which for me was easily RTD’s best episode and an example of why, despite my reservations about him as a showrunner, I’d love for him to return to write an episodes per series) but beyond that it reminded me in parts of MR James’ “Oh Whistle and I’ll Come To You My Lad” and even Wells’ “The Time Machine”, specifically the hugely atmospheric scene from the book (never portrayed in any other media as far as I know) where the Time Traveller voyages to the last days of the Earth and finds himself alone on a creepy beach whilst the sun hangs low and red in the ancient sky. I loved it as an adult but I think it would have been amazing if you were, say, 12 or 13 years old. All the best episodes of Who make me jealous of those who are still young enough to have their minds blown by the best kind of telefantasy before they get all old, cynical and nit-picky, as we all eventually do.

Speaking of which, yeah, let’s just draw a veil over whether the Barn is on Gallifrey or not.

See this is the problem with a choose your own review. I fall between the cracks. I’m someone who generally doesn’t like Moffat’s writing, or hasn’t since about 2008 (one or two minor exceptions) Not only that, but my problems with Moffat’s later writing have colored how much I liked his earlier stuff. I enjoyed Coupling and Girl in the Fireplace less after Series 6.

And yet I really really liked Listen. I’m still trying to analyze why. It’s not the Capaldi effect. Was it because I found it less glib? More emotionally honest? Was it because it was about more than other Moffat episodes? The Cleverness felt earned? Was it because it was, in some ways, new type of story? Or a combination of these facts. I don’t know. Someone said it felt like something Moffat would’ve written if he’d never been show-runner, a returning guest writer. But it’s much more than that.

Anyway while I agreed with parts of this review, I wish there was a place for people like me. People who pick number 2 in the first choice, and yet still loved the episode.